'Yes, monsieur?'

'Are you aware of your mother's real name?'

Marthe looked at him for a minute, then, letting her head fall forward on her arms, she burst into tears.

'There, there,' said Poirot, patting her on the shoulder. 'Calm yourself. I see that you know. Now a second question-did you know who Monsieur Renauld was?'

'Monsieur Renauld,' she raised her head from her hands and looked at him wonderingly.

'Ah, I see you do not know that. Now listen to me carefully.'

Step by step, he went over the case, much as he had done to me on the day of our departure for England. Marthe listen spellbound. When he had finished, she drew a long breath.

'But you are wonderful-magnificent! You are the greatest detective in the world.'

With a swift gesture she slipped off her chair and knelt before him with an abandonment that was wholly French.

'Save him, monsieur,' she cried. 'I love him so. Oh, save him: save him-save him!'